


Till We Meet Again (Carry Me)

by WolfVenom



Category: League of Legends
Genre: Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, Crying, Death, F/M, Heavy Angst, Inspired by Music, Sad Ending, light fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-17
Updated: 2017-05-17
Packaged: 2018-10-30 13:17:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10877562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WolfVenom/pseuds/WolfVenom
Summary: They would be together, eternally, she knew. She would just be a bit slower in getting there than him.





	Till We Meet Again (Carry Me)

**Author's Note:**

> I recommend listening to Eurielle while reading, but if you have another sad song you like to angst to, feel free! This fic is definitely better with music. 
> 
>  
> 
> "While you sleep, dream of me  
> I’ll be keeping our memories  
> Living in my heart and soul  
> Waiting for the day  
> When we will be together again."
> 
> -Carry Me by Eurielle

_ “Hey hun? What would you do if I died?” _

 

_ “I would burn this world to the ground and build a castle from the ashes far away where I would live alone, forever.” _

 

_ “Awh.” _

 

_ \--- _

 

 

Sunbathing with Rakan was on Xayah’s top ten lists of Reasons Why My Boyfriend Can Stick Around. She might even go as far as to say it was higher in use than his charming skills in battle, the way his tail would swoop with his hips and those sharp little teeth would poke through a grin. He soaked up sunlight much better than she, the evidence laid bare across his dark skin and warm belly. 

 

Xayah loved plunking down besides him after a long fight and curling up on that belly. It was probably the only place on him that touched the sun and was big enough to drape across. She would pull her claws up to his waist and hug her knees to her chest, dozing off to his soft purring as he slept in the brightness. 

 

When they would wake they would cuddle only until the birds stopped chirping and then it would be back to the hunt, traveling long nights across woodlands and mountains. Rakan would often beg to be carried, tip toeing along and claiming his feet hurt, puffing up his feathers when she refused giddily. He was so cute not to tease. 

 

Their endeavors would always end with Rakan nuzzling up for a kiss and asking once again for her hand, of course to which she would smile dreamily and whisper, “ _ ask me again tomorrow.” _

 

If her ears weren't already pink, they'd be flushed rose with his flirting and his proposals. 

 

“Baby. How much do you love me?” Rakan asked, the grumble of his purr grating across his words. Xayah stirred from his side, propping her chin up on his chest. 

 

“Honest answer? More than yesterday, less than tomorrow,” she murmured, tracing the twin pucker of scars on his collarbones with admiration, “now get up, lazy fuzz, or I'll switch them around.”

 

Rakan blanched, scrambling to his feet, “you're not serious, are you? You wouldn't un-love me!”

 

She chuckled, flicking her ear against his chin as he stared down at her. “We’ll see, depending on what we find tonight.”

 

The wind rustled through his fur and his ears flattened down, bottom lip extended in a pitiful pout. Xayah pulled it affectionately and turned to trod off, in the direction of the red magic on the horizon. Rakan snuffed and followed obediently, tail swishing and a smile dancing across his mouth. 

 

 

It was twilight when they approached the den, guarded by a flock of shadows in the night, nothing quills couldn't fix. The acolytes dropped like walnuts from their bearers, black essence draining their forms to give back to mother earth. Rakan smiled, nosed at Xayah’s feathers on her shoulder, and danced around the corpses to collect each indigo shimmer protruding from their throats, twining them through his hair like a crown.

 

The den was a deep crevice inside a mound of fallen boulders, carved out and packed with mud and flame. Cracks and folds in the stone lined up with deep red veins, crawling and pulsating and leading Xayah inwards. She turned and flicked her ear at Rakan, nosing in the direction where more acolytes just returned from patrol. 

 

“You stay at the entrance, carve down the guards. When I need you inside, I'll toss a feather through the opening. I need you to charm them as long as you can, prevent them from saving the ruins,

 

“And Rakan? Stay safe,” Xayah finished, rubbing his shoulder affectionately as he nodded in understanding and stretched to take down the guards. A perfect distraction. 

 

She dashed down into the cave, listening to the plunk of fallen guards at the lip of the cavern as she stalked deeper, poised for attack. 

 

The pristine red glow of the magic circle was about thirty feet beneath the surface, similar to the one they found Zed at. He would not be here to protect this one, however. With no guards inside, and no wards in place to protect the rune, she ignited her quills and set them forth, ducking out of the sanctum as it collapsed. No need for Rakan down here, today. 

 

Getting back out proved harder, as the tremors had shaken stones loose along the path. She knew that Rakan wouldn't let it cave in completely, so she wasn't worried about getting trapped underground. 

 

Moonlight caressed her face as she pulled herself out of the den, familiar lumps of ash the only residue of the fallen acolytes. Thick paw prints littered the ground, scattered with blood and dark essence, leading up to a single pine tree in the clearing, where Rakan lay, basking in all the blood and waving his tail. He perked when he noticed her, smiling and hopping down from his perch happily. 

 

“Nice job, hun. I'm falling harder for you every day,” he crooned, bathing in her gentle ministrations upon his sticky hair, covered in crimson beads. 

 

Xayah smirked, “I didn't think there could be any more falling from you at this point,” she chuckled softly, wiping dirt and dried essence from his forehead. Their tender reunion was accompanied by the flourishing forest, once more rejuvenated by the pure magic now reintegrated upon mother earth. 

 

But both if them knew it was too easy at first. Rakan twitched and Xayah inhaled sharply as the scent of evil washed over them, and they both rolled away just as an arrow pierced the tree besides them. 

 

Rakan was lost to the bushes as Xayah stood up, keeping her head low and her nose aware. The scent of death filtered the woods all around them, but it accumulated more thickly to her left. 

 

She dashed into the air and sent out a barrage of feathers as soon as their assailant stepped into view, an arrow notched. Long hair, white as a bone and limbs gangly and rotten, covered in the purple mesh of evil. 

 

He evaded the quills with ease, only one finding purchase in his shoulder, where it withered and burned out from his flesh, the corruption in his veins too powerful to be penetrated. 

 

Xayah snarled, keeping her eye trained on him and one ear on the quiet hush she heard from Rakan a few paces to the right, sneaking up to the man. 

 

Knowing his plan instantly, Xayah pulled her weight back and prepared to pounce. The man lifted his bow, not to her, but to the sky, and with confusion, she sat back on her heels and watched, thrown off guard. Was he blind? 

 

“ _ Xayah!” _

 

She then noticed the whistle from above her, and the fact that the man no longer notched an arrow, but Rakan was faster. He dashed as fast as he could and draped his shield across her, a warm embrace of strong feathers and magic. The storm of arrows falling from above clattered off the bubble and to the ground, and Xayah let out a held breath. They could attack now. 

 

“Rakan, stun him!” she shouted, waiting for his grand entrance to launch the enemy into the air. The man didn't move, and he wasn't stunned, and Xayah felt cold creeping across her spine when he lowered his bow and stood straight, as if he was finished. 

 

She looked around to find out what had happened, along the sky and the treeline, not to the ground a few feet away at first. But there he lay, wrapped tight in black coils that bled darkness into dead veins, and an arrowhead exiting from between his shoulder blades. Golden feathers were dull, brown and red and cold, and Xayah didn't care that the attacker had vanished, all she knew was  _ Rakan, Rakan, Rakan!  _

 

The tendrils of corruption died without their host near, and let loose the body in their grasp, and Xayah collapsed near Rakan, rolling his body towards her to check the wound. He was alive, breathing, beating, but he was bruised to rotten flesh around his gut and his arms and he was breathing like a swarm of bees lived in his lungs. 

 

“Rakan? Wake up, hun, I need you to tell me you're alright so I can fix you up,” she whispered, not trusted her hollow voice to sound strong. Eyes devoid of colour trained on her face, and his ears flicked. She tried to apply pressure, magic, healing, anything around the protrusion in his chest, but the black kept crawling along his torso, decaying his body from the inside out, and blood dribbled freely from the arrow. Xayah blinked away tears and broke off the arrowhead beneath him.  _ Not Rakan, anyone but Rakan, please _ . 

 

He choked on another intake of air and tried to tell her what happened, but where the coils had touched him there was no longer skin, or muscle or tissue, but she could see the insides of her beloved and it was still rotting away. His guts were as red as his hair, was the only thought she could rationalize in her head. 

 

She sobbed over his dying body, clutching his hand to her chest and smoothing down bloody quills and shushing him through the pain, to make his leaving peaceful, and she screamed to the gods for taking her purpose away too soon. 

 

Xayah stripped him of his feathers, closed his eyes and tore the arrow from the no longer bleeding wound. Buried the body wrapped in red cloth with a stiffness and numbness only known as shock, and gave the love of her life back to the earth, remembering promises and the death that wasn't ready for either of them, how his cold hand traced her cheek and fell as life left him. 

 

He didn't manage to get out his final ‘I love you’. 

 

~*~

 

 

 

Xayah promised him that she would vanquish the corruption, in his honour. As she tore through hideous and bases to destroy the darkness that took away her family, her tribe, and her love, she would leave a single golden feather at each place she liberated. 

 

She was alone, like before. Before Rakan. Before his smell, and his warmth, and his love. And it hurt much more than any wound ever could. But she wasn't alone for much longer, after the year that passed. 

 

When Rakan had cloaked them in a magic shield from the hail of arrows, the man named Varus had readied a second arrow, darker and thicker with a tip sharper than wit. It pierced through bark and stone to reach it's mark, hitting Rakan before he could fall inside the protective shield with his love. To save her, he died. 

 

She met a girl named Ahri, who gave her shelter and company, who would continue her job while Xayah was laying in bed with healers orders not to get up. 

 

And when her and Ahri and a woman named Leona continued back on their journey for freedom, Xayah had her child strapped securely to her back, beneath her cape where no damage could harm him. Her babe had violet eyes, huge and inquisitive, and soft lips like hers, but his hair was white, his cheeks adorned with two stripes each. 

 

 

 

 

She named him Rakshan. He had no father, but he had three mothers, each loved him more than the sun itself. But none as much as Rakan. 

\---

 

 

 

 

_ “If anybody is gonna die first, it's gonna be me. I can't see you die…” _

**Author's Note:**

> All quotes have been heard in game and copied to the best of abilities. 
> 
> The child is not canon in any way and just a pinch of salt to pour atop the wound.


End file.
